


How Do Friendships Work Again?

by 3x3



Series: Help These Painfully Oblivious Souls [1]
Category: Dear Evan Hansen - Pasek & Paul/Levenson
Genre: "look at my sweet children making friends with each other" i whisper, "so um what happened... to your arm?", Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Gen, I Tried, M/M, also connor is also an awkward little child fight me on this, also connor made me a potty mouth, borderline platonic??, can be read either way i guess i like bros being bros, haha i'm venting through connor, have you seen him in the computer lab, he's trying guys he's trying his best, i mean connor doesn't know it yet but he has a huge gay crush, i mean that and i can't characterize, let's play spot the unconscious references, obviously or connor wouldn't be here, probably ooc because we don't really know connor??, rated simply because of the language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-31
Updated: 2018-01-31
Packaged: 2019-03-11 20:27:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13531914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/3x3/pseuds/3x3
Summary: Contrary to what a lot of people believe, Connor Murphy does not, in fact, own a car.And that served as the sole reason why he has to take the morning bus whenever Zoe has early band practice.





	How Do Friendships Work Again?

**Author's Note:**

> I can't title to save my life. Well to be fair I can't summary either. Help. It's been so loong since I wrote a complete story ugh.  
> There's so much dialogue I cringe.  
> First fic for the fandom so don't judge...too hard?  
> Sorry I'll just take my rambling to the additional tags.

01.

Contrary to what a lot of people believe, Connor Murphy _does not,_ in fact, own a car.

Well, he _does_ , but it’s technically not his, because he co-owns it with his sister, Zoe.

One might think the Murphy family is more than wealthy enough to get them each their own, individual cars- and they are, no doubt about that- but no, he still has to share it with his baby sister like a pair of nine-year-olds. (Not that nine-year-olds owned cars. At least none that he knew of.)

He’s almost certain the the _arrangement_ was mostly due to his parents’ strange belief that it would keep him rooted where they can see him.

It does not actually keep him rooted at all but that’s his parents’ problem, not his.

And that served as the sole reason why he has to take the morning bus whenever Zoe has early band practice.

“It’s not fair.” he tried to fight once, the argument tasted bratty on his tongue, but he couldn’t  bring himself to care about his whiny tone. “If Zoe has to get there _early_ , she should be the one taking the stupid bus.”

“Connor, sweetie, I’ve _told_ you _.”_ his mother only replied carefully, “The buses don’t run such a frequent schedule that early in the morning. Besides, you could still hitch a ride with Zoe.” she coaxed, like she was afraid that Connor was going to go crazy and blow his top like a volcano.

His mouth twitched downwards, and he saw his mother’s face fall. He told himself to calm down, that it’s way too stupid to get angry about riding the bus, even for him, so he simply said, “And waste an hour doing nothing just waiting for school to start? No thanks.”

* * *

 

To be honest buses aren’t always that bad. Especially since Connor always made sure to take the earlier buses, missing the horde of students and office-workers shuffling and filling up the cars with buzzing voices and a claustrophobic-worthy environment, (but not ridiculously early like Zoe’s band practice, of course.)

At that time of the day, the buses are mostly empty, with lots of spare seats, and it’s almost peaceful when Connor finally spreads out his legs, popping in his ear buds and leans back reading whatever novel he happens to get his hands on. Almost.

And his morning would’ve gone alright if it weren’t for what’s-his-name staggering into view.

Okay that was unfair. Connor couldn’t care any less about who else rides or does not ride the bus, much less get triggered just because a kid from his school came aboard.

It _does,_ however bother him when the kid decides to disrupt his peace and solace.

Because _hell if this kid isn’t targeting him on purpose._ Look around, there’s plenty of empty seats on the bus, and yet he chooses to casually saunter over to _Connor’s_ corner. (Ugh, he has to stop referring to it as that.) He hasn’t claimed the place, not really, but it’s basically already public transportation courtesy, the unspoken rule, that you sit on the other empty benches _first_ , before squeezing in next to a stranger.

And it’s so painfully obvious that the kid recognizes him too. If the widening of the eyes doesn’t give it away, the sudden nervous expression on his guarded face confirms his speculations.

 _Great_.

Connor can live with that. Accidentally taking the same bus as another classmate from school isn’t so bad. He’s probably going to be blabbing off to his friends about it though, something about _surviving_ the _freaky_ school shooter, no doubt. Let the people talk. It’s not like they have anything better to do. Connor turns back to his novel, trying his best to ignore the presence of the kid in the front.

But then the kid suddenly gets a look of determination. His face is still panicky, and the guy looks like there are alarm bells going off in his head but he doesn’t falter as he comes closer, and closer, and _closer_ , fingers clutching tightly at the hem of his shirt, til he stops right in front of Connor, and Connor is so surprised he doesn’t say anything.

“Is there-” he gnaws on his lips, eyes darting. “Is this seat taken- I mean can I sit here?”

 

What in the actual _fuck_?

 

Connor thinks about dismissing him entirely and just going back to his book, but he can’t make himself to turn over the goddamned page. He huffs under his breath out of frustration

“ _Excuse me_?” he all but growls, eyes narrowing to slits and voice dangerously level, hoping it is enough to convey his message through. He takes off a side of his ear buds( which he is currently using as a ruse to fool people into thinking he is living in his own closed off world when in fact his phone’s battery is dead anyway and there isn’t any music blaring in Connor’s ears), challenging the kid to speak.

A look of bewilderment jumps into his eyes.

“Um I’m sorry- is anyone sitting here?” the boy winces, like he regrets his own existence. On one hand, Conner can relate to that, on the other hand, despite what he tells others and what he tells himself, people flinching away from him doesn’t do wonders for his self-esteem.

“Why do you want to know?” he asks defensively.

He knows he’s coming off as being hostile, but really he just wants to ride his bus in peace.

Immediately the kid launches into a full on rant. “Oh, well it’s just that you’re sitting here alone and you look like you could use some company so I just thought- sorry it’s dumb and I’m stupid like what kind of insensitive freak just goes around on buses plopping down next to people who clearly wants to be left alone at least that’s what I’m assuming judging by your posture as well as reaction and I’M VERY SORRY if I read this wrong I’m just going to leave you alone nowbyesorryforbothering-”

“Wait-” Connor grabs the guy’s wrist without thinking hoping it would prevent him from fleeing the bus and most likely never take this certain line again. The guy freezes, then starts squirming under Connor’s grip.

“I’m um- I’m sorry for disturbing you.” he looks extremely uncomfortable, like he would full on break into a sprint if Connor doesn’t have a firm hold on his hand. “I don’t-”

“Chill, Hansen.” Connor finally remembers the name to the familiar face. There’s an odd sense of pride to that. Evan Hansen. That’s right. The kid who sits to his front-right in biology. Always keeps his head down in the textbook, restlessly taking down notes. One of the few people who actually pay attention to the class, unlike Connor. It’s understandable that he has a hard time recalling Hansen’s name, since he mostly only saw his face in a certain angle, and that is from behind his left ear. Not the clearest view.

Hansen ducks his head. “You know who I am?”

Connor raises an eyebrow. “Are you saying you don’t know who _I_ am?”

“That’s-” he flushes red. “That’s not the same thing. I mean, I’m _me_ , and you’re...”

“The famous school resident freak?” Connor smiles humorlessly.

His eyes widen. “I didn’t _say_ that.”

“Sure.” he rolls his eyes.

The bus jerks right and Hansen stumbles, barely keeping his balance. “Anyway I should get going uh-”

“Sit, Hansen.” Connor interrupts with a deadpan. “Before you fall and break an arm or something.”

“Are- are you sure?” the bus lurches again. Connor yanks the kid down, which draws out a yelp from the jittery boy.

“To answer your previous questions, no, no one is occupying this seat and yes you may take it.” he pauses. “Well, no one apart from my dark ghost counterpart, but they don’t mind being sit on so it’s cool.”

Hansen has a complicated look on his face, like he is contemplating whether to take Connor seriously or not. It’s kind of cute, really, with his eyebrows scrunching up like that.

“Do they have their own name? Or are they called Connor too?” he finally blurts.

“Who?” Connor blinks.

“Your ghost counterpart.” Hansen picks at his nails. “The- the one I’m sitting on?”

“Oh. I don’t think they do?” Connor frowns. “I’ll let you know when they come up with a decision.”

“Right…” he mutters quietly, seemingly more to himself than to Connor. “Gotta respect ghost rights.”

The broken pieces of conversation more or less stretches on like the bus ride: bumpy and irregular and disheartening, and Connor gets fed up with it first.

“Look,” he starts, “Let’s make this one thing clear. You’re awkward, I’m awkward, let’s not make the situation any weirder than it already is because don’t even try to deny that whenever one of us tries to speak the stupid atmosphere just gets more and more mortifying.”

“Oh..” Hansen looks a bit taken aback, but doesn’t look offended. “Right. I, uh, I agree. You have a very good…” he brings his hands up in a gesture for emphasis, arms flailing unnaturally. “point.” he finishes lamely.

“Right.” Connor echoes, and leaves it at that.

Because really, the school’s two biggest losers bonding over a bus ride sounds unbelievably pathetic (and overly clichéd anyway).

* * *

 

02.

He got into a fight with Zoe. Which isn’t anything new or worth mentioning, but it still sucks to know that he’s going to have to ride the bus this morning or they might get into a car crash due to the undoubtedly yelling that is sure to happen with both the Murphy kids in the same enclosed space.

That’s two days in a row.

Connor sighs and takes his usual seat.

“Um…”

The hesitant voice is getting too familiar for his liking.

“Hansen.” he says without looking up. “Sit.”

A thud comes from beside him.

“Does the no talking rule still apply?”

“I don’t know.” Connor lifts his head tiredly. “Does it?”

Hansen looks embarrassed at the sudden eye-contact. His cheeks flush red. “I think- probably.” he mumbles. “This is awkward.”

“Okay.” Connor says, and goes back to his novel.

Except he keeps glancing over to Hansen.

It’s strange. He can’t keep his eyes off the boy for five minutes.

Hansen seems to be oblivious to Connor’s weird intense staring, because he keeps his eyes glued to his lap and arms tucked in tightly by his sides.

Connor scowls to himself.

* * *

 

03.

The next day he can’t seem to get himself out of bed no matter what, so he skips.

He spends the whole day under his covers, listening to the audio book of Aristotle and Dante Discover the Secrets of the Universe.

He does not, however, think about Hansen sitting alone on the bus.

* * *

 04.

He falls back into his routine the following morning because Larry got a call from the school. Also as punishment he is not allowed to ride the car with Zoe for a week.

Not that he cares anymore.

A few minutes later Hansen comes aboard and Connor tries not to mind the way he visibly relaxes after seeing him.

This time he just sits down wordlessly and starts picking at his cuticles.

Connor stares bluntly, and takes in the way Hansen wiggles uncomfortably under his look. He doesn’t redirect his gaze.

After a while Hansen finally speaks, softly. “Sorry, I know we have an agreement of silence and everything and Idon’tmeantobotheryouorappeartobeselfimportantbut-” he catches a breath, like he is trying to calm himself down. “Do you… want something from me?”

“Don’t you want to ask me where I went yesterday?” Connor blurts.

_Way to make yourself sound like an egocentric jerk, Murphy. Not everything is about you._

Hansen looks startled. “Well, I mean, it’s probably none of my business and I don’t want to pry, and we have that whole not talking thing so…” he fidgets with his jacket zipper.

“It’s not really a rule, Hansen. You can talk to me if you want to. I just don’t want either of us to feel _obliged_ to hold a conversation. As you can tell I’m not a big conversationalist.”

“Neither am I.” Hansen breathes. “But yeah. I’m just not big on butting into other people’s lives.”

Connor raises an eyebrow.

“I skipped.” he says honestly.

“Okay.” Hansen lets go of the zipper and instead starts picking at loose threads on his sleeves.

“That’s it? You’re not going to berate me about how it’s bad and irresponsible and yadda yadda yadda? You seem like the type.”

Hansen chuckles nervously. “I mean, I’m too anxious for any sort of confrontation so no. Also I can understand not wanting to go to school.”

“Alright.” he says. Then, “I’m only taking the bus because Zoe’s band practice and nosy parents get in the way of a car ride to school.” he adds.

Hansen looks up at him. “I’m riding the bus because Jared’s car got confiscated when his parents found out that he’s been sneaking drinks from the liquor cabinet since...forever.”

“And here I thought you only came because you couldn’t resist my overflowing charm.” he replies dryly.

Hansen looks at him with uncertainty evident in his eyes and Connor pushes down the urge to smack himself in the face. “It was- I was just joking.”

“Ah. Right.” Hansen looks relieved. “I thought that at first but I was afraid that I mistook it and if I laughed it would be inconsiderate and I don’t want to be a douche so… Sorry, I’m not good at this.” he fumbles with words, and it almost makes Connor cringe in sympathy.

“‘This’, being?”

“Talking to people?”

“Oh.” Connor says. “Me neither.”

* * *

 

05.

“Are we friends?”

“What kind of question is that?”

“I mean- this is what friends do, right?”

“I don’t- I wouldn’t know, actually. I don’t have much experience with _friendship_.”

“Same here…”

“So is this it?”

“If you want? I’m about as clueless as you are.”

* * *

 06.

“If this is a friendship, does that mean I get to call you by cute nicknames?”

“Where is _that_ coming from?” he pushes down the urge to smile.

“Oh, I don’t know. I just think _Connie_ would sound adorable. Gap moe or whatever they call it.”

“Wow. Didn’t expect you to be a closet weeaboo at all.” he rolls his eyes, but doesn’t protest against the nickname.

His new friend flushes, and goes “Shut up.” under his breath.

* * *

 

07.

It’s strange and new and he doesn’t really know what he’s doing. But Evan doesn’t either, so it makes him feel a little better.

Still Connor can’t help but wonder if they have a valid friendship or not. Sure they both agreed that what they have is whatever it is, and they’re not really in a haste to label anything yet, but it’s a bit odd to call Evan a stranger when they sit next to each other on the bus everyday yet what kind of friends barely greet each other in the hallways?

Yeah, that’s a thing now. The bus rides. Zoe still has to give him a ride if he asked, according to their parents, but Connor hasn’t taken her up to that offer for a good while now.

He tells himself it’s just because he can’t leave Evan alone on the bus. The guy might rip his own nails out due to all the fidgeting. And he doesn’t know when he started noticing these little things about his new friend, how he seems to be generally less jumpy beside Connor.

He has these little fragments of knowledge about Evan stored in his head- how he gets tongue-tied over just almost everything, how he over-apologizes 300% of the time, how his lips twitch when he finds something funny but is too self-conscious to laugh, how his eyes light up brighter than usual when the skies are clear.

It’s not like he has other things to put on his mind, so naturally Evan occupies most of his free-roaming thoughts.

Not weird at all.

Connor doesn’t want to think too hard about it.

* * *

 

08.

“Hey…” Zoe knocks at his open door cautiously, “Do you have a minute?”

“What do you want, Zoe?” He sighs, throwing his head back to look at her in his upside-down-view. “If this is about your nail polish I already put it back in your precious collection so no need to get into a-“

“Not _that,_ Connor.”

He blinks at his sister.

“Okay?”

She purses her lips. “It’s just- I’m wondering, you know? Please don’t take this the wrong way. I think you look happier lately, and you seem to be calmer these days.” She says, tugging at her hair, a habit that she picked up from Connor, no doubt.

“That’s not really a question, Zoe.” He tells her. “That’s an observation.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“Do you have a point somewhere in this?” He arches his eyebrows at her.

“No, I guess not really.” She seems to be surprised with this answer as well. “I just wanted you to know that I think it’s nice that we can hold a full conversation without breaking into a screaming match.”

“Noted.” He shrugs, and buries his head back in his notebook.

Zoe lingers at the doorway. “What are you up to?”

He turns back properly this time, and studies her face, not knowing what to think of the question. Connor doesn’t quite understand why he finds it unexpected that there is no hostility behind her curiosity.

So he responds honestly. “Strangely enough, homework.”

“That’s nice.”

A week earlier he might’ve found that insulting and proceeded to fly into a blind rage ( _“Yeah, I know. Look at me! Connor Murphy, the crazy rebel kid, doing homework. Wonder of wonders, miracle of miracles.”_ ), but he senses no malice under her words, so he just tilts his head and says, “Yeah, it’s…something,”

Connor turns back to his work and at the corner of his view he can see Zoe looking bewildered, shaking her head like she is in disbelief. And it’s actually sort of comical.

He thinks he wouldn’t mind seeing surprised looks directed at him as long as it’s the pleasant type.

* * *

 

09.

“Can I sit here?”

It’s been so long since he last heard that question, because Evan is comfortable enough around him, and he wouldn’t need to ask if it isn’t for Connor’s big and deliberate messenger bag sitting on Evan’s usual seat. Connor might laugh if he doesn’t feel like complete shit at the moment.

His skin is crawling and his eyes are droopy and his head is spinning and spinning and spinning. He woke up particularly prissy and he doesn’t _get it_. Things have been going so well for Connor, why is he suddenly crashing back down at where he started?

His voice is scratchy when he speaks.

“No. Get lost.”

Hurt flashes in Evan’s wide, timid eyes. “Uh-what?” He squeaks.

“I _said_ ,” Connor spits out, “Get lost. Bring your charity case somewhere, will you?” He snaps.

“What do you mean charity case, Connor?” Evan is clearly disturbed by the comment. “Are you okay?”

He barks out a laugh. “Do I look like I’m _fucking okay_? Grow a pair of fucking eyes, why don’t you!”

It’s the type of thing when he flees the room after an outburst like that but he has nowhere to go on the bus and he wants to throw himself out the window and maybe fracture a spine or two and if he gets lucky maybe they’ll cut into his lungs ending his worthless life on this miserable excuse of a huge hunk of rock they call a planet.

_You’re a failure a mistake a smudge in the universe why haven’t you wiped yourself out yet why why why why why selfish selfish selfish waste of time waste of space waste of oxygen why can’t you do anything right._

He bites his lips, hard (he’s surprised that he hasn’t managed to draw blood), and his mind clears up for just a moment. “I’m sort of caught in a mood right now.” Connor tells Evan, trying hard to stay as level-headed as he can manage, fingers gripping at the armrest so tightly his knuckles turn white. “I don’t want to fucking snap at you.”

“Tell me what you meant by charity case.” Evan says stubbornly, but his wobbling lips sells him out on how nervous he is at the whole situation.

The bus takes a sudden brake, and Evan grasps on the strap above his head desperately.

“I can’t have a rational conversation right now- _fuck_ , Evan. Will you just _leave me alone_?” Everything feels bitter on his tongue, heavy with blades and venom. His other hand doesn’t have an armrest to dig in, so he clenches it into a fist, trying to use the pain to resist his urge to scream.

“Please, Connor. You’re hurting yourself.” Evan looks conflicted, and it’s a wonder that Connor can still pinpoint the exact emotion from his friend’s face despite the hazy condition he is under. “Sorry about this in advance.” Evan mutters quickly, and before Connor has time to question or protest, the boy is already swiftly removing Connor’s bag from the seat and sitting down quickly, putting the bag back on his lap. And in a instant he’s taken Connor’s hand in his and wrenching open the tension in his balled fist.

He is so surprised that his other hand fall open unconsciously. “What the _fuck, Evan?_ ”

“Sorry!” Evan yelps. “I know this is probably really weird and you’re probably really weirded out by me but you shouldn’t leave your emotions pent up and um I don’t know what exactly it is you need to help you feel better but I should at least prevent you from clawing off the skin of your palm.”

“I can’t- I don’t know-“ He gasps, like there is not enough air in his lungs and he might suffocate and maybe that won’t even be a bad thing because surely the world would be a better and significantly brighter place without him- _don’t be ridiculous you don’t matter that much to the world you won’t even change anything if you were gone because you’re just that forgettable why bother trying to make a difference nothing you do nothing helps or impacts and you’re as whiny as ever._

“We don’t have to talk about it.” Evan’s voice is small and gentle, and it drags him back to reality. “We can- What do you want to talk about?”

“I don’t care. It doesn’t matter. Nothing matters. I want to stab something.”

“Okay trees.” Evan decides. “Let’s talk about trees.”

“Trees?” Connor asks incredulously.

“Yes. Trees.” Evan looks more confident with himself now. “Did you know that all branches of a tree put together are equal in thickness to its trunk?”

“No.” He breathes in. “I didn’t know that.” He breathes back out.

“Da Vinci’s Rule of the Trees.”

“Okay.” In. “Tell me another one.” Out.

“There is a hotel in Sweden called treehotel that has all its rooms up in the trees. That’s pretty nifty I would say.”

In. “Bet you’d never check out if we took you there.” Out.

“There are Eucalyptus trees in Hawaii with natural rainbow-colored barks.” Evan continues before Connor requests.

In. “I like that. Don’t let anyone tell you that it’s ‘not natural’.” Out.

If Evan senses a underlying tone he doesn’t mention it. And Connor is thankful. That’s something he doesn’t want to get into yet.

“An average tree is 99% dead inside and if that isn’t relatable I don’t know what is.”

“Yup.” Connor laughs weakly.

“Feel better?”

“Still deciding.”

“That’s okay. That’s- take your time.” he squeezes Connor’s hand slightly and sends his heart racing for no reason.

He thinks he likes how this whole friend thing works.

“What did you mean by charity case, Connor?”

“Well.” his mouth feels dry, like sandpaper. “Just- you don’t have to put up with me just because you feel sorry for the weird lonely kid on the bus, okay? I don’t need anyone’s fucking pity and I know for a fact that I’m unlikable and generally a pain to be around. And if this is some project to make you feel better about yourself then I will be delighted to throw some choice words in your face, regardless of how emotionally drained I am right now.”

“Why would I do that?” Evan actually looks a bit insulted. “No offence but do I look like I’m any better with other people than you are?”

“Not really.” he admits. It sounds worse than he intended, but Evan doesn’t seem to mind.

“And you’re not _unlikable_.” he says, tracing his thumb on Connor’s knuckles. “You’re just harder for people to figure out. I mean, _I_ like you.”

Connor can feel a dumb smile making its way onto his face. “But do you _like_ me, or do you _like like_ me?” he teases.

“You sound like a twelve-year-old girl.” Evan informs him with a bit of a huff, then hastily adds. “Not that there’s anything wrong with twelve-year-old girls, I mean. They’re really… sweet.”

“I _wish_ I were a twelve-year-old girl.” Connor makes a face. “Then I wouldn’t be judged for wearing nail polish, or growing long hair. And I could get away with saying _‘like like’_. And no one would have a problem with me having a celebrity crush on Ben Platt.”

“You have a celebrity crush on Ben Platt?”

Connor tosses him an odd look. “Have you heard the man sing?”

“Okay, okay. I see your point.” Evan holds up his hands in defeat.

“The part about Ben Platt, or-”

“The twelve-year-old girl thing.” he clarifies. “When you put it like that, it does sound pretty stellar. And now our lives just sound sad.”

“Would it sound any sadder if I told you that what you said about me not being unlikable was the closest to a love confession I’ve ever gotten?”

Evan contemplates that for a while. “No.” he shakes his head. “Not really.”

“You’re right. Can’t sink lower when you’re already flat on the ground.”

“That’s not true.” Evan frowns. “You can always dig a hole, Connor.”

“You know I’m too lazy for that, Evan.” he smirks, squeezing their hand tighter together, and when he sneaks a glance over to Evan’s side, he can see a ghost of a smile on the boy’s lips too. Under the fuzzy morning light, the moment feels so peaceful it’s unreal. Like you could just pause time, and if it were a game, it’s the type of cut scene you’d want to snap a screenshot of, so you could save it as your wallpaper. It makes him a bit breathless.

Then the moment shifts and shatters, taking the magic away. Evan jolts a little, like he just remembers their intertwined fingers. His hold slacks as if previously wrapped around something that burned. He looks terribly embarrassed. “I’m sorry, do you want me to let go of you?”

Connor wants to sigh loudly. Or maybe slam his head against the window for a good amount of times. It’s childish, but he wants to grab on what’s left of the experience and preserve the most of it, so he sticks out his tongue and tightens his grip further.

“Shut up and let me hold your hand.”

* * *

 

10.

“This is my number.” A wrinkled piece of paper with chicken scratch scribbled over passes through between them. Connor catches it between his finger tips.

He blinks. “Wow, Evan. Never pegged you to be the bold type.”

“It’s not-” Splotches of red rush up to his cheeks. It’s kind of endearing. “This is for, well, if you ever want to know more about trees… or...  this is- I’m here if you ever need me? Or if you don’t.”

“You don’t look like the biggest fan of phones.” Connor takes a guess.

“I’m really not.” he agrees. “But you’re more important, so.”

Connor snorts. “You’re fucking precious.” It warms up his heart in a way he hasn’t felt in a long long time.

“Uh, what?” Evan’s voice is a bit strangled and Connor has to stifle a laugh.

Their stop is about another traffic light away. Connor takes his bag smoothly from Evan’s lap.

“Thanks.” he says genuinely. “For, well.” he tilts his head thoughtfully. “Everything, I guess.”

“Um, don’t mention it...”

“And, what I’m going to say next is,” Connor has never been good with words. It’s like everything he says get taken in the wrong way, so he chooses his words extra carefully this time. “I would like to help you too, if you’re ever have too many tree facts with no one to share with?” He scratches his head and furrows his brows as he decides that he’s going to wash his hair later that day. “I know that you have Kleinman, but- I just crashed head first into a dead end, didn’t I?”

Evan laughs nervously. “Kind of. But it’s okay, I know what you’re trying to say. I think.”

“Oh.” Connor swallows. “Good enough for me. I’ll text you?”

Evan nods. “Yeah. I’d like that. And you know what’s going to be super lame? Is that my mom is probably going to be overjoyed with this whole situation. ‘ _Oh, Evan! I’m so proud of you! I knew you could do it if you tried! What did I tell you, didn’t I tell you that you could really make friends if you try talking to them? This is wonderful! Why don’t you bring them over for dinner some time? Let me check my schedule!_ ’.”

Connor gives him an unimpressed look. “Well mine won’t be any better, if it grants you any comfort. They’d be super surprised, but not in a good way, they’d be super cautious. Like _we’re not judging your choice of company but we’d prefer it if they don’t do drugs._ ” he pauses. “You don’t do drugs, do you?”

“No not at all why would you think so?”

“Chill.” he lets loose a little smile. “I’m messing with you.”

“Ah, okay.” Evan’s shoulders slump in relief. “I hope they don’t grill you...too much?”

“Thanks.” The bus screeches to a stop and he swings his messenger bag across his back and turns his head back, throwing Evan a look behind his shoulder. “Are you coming or what?”

“Right.”  Evan springs up to his feet, almost tripping over his own leg. Connor graciously pretends not to see.

He doesn’t need to look back to know that Evan is following behind closely, and it’s the first time he doesn’t feel any trace of nagging sensation in his mind reminding him about his image and reputation.

It feels like a promise.

**Author's Note:**

> you...can...find me on tumblr? my new musicals sideblog is @whatbreadshouldiget  
> where i post dumb things  
> tree facts taken from http://www.kickassfacts.com/25-kickass-interesting-facts-trees/  
> OH AND I FORGOT TO ADD THAT the audiobook of aaddtsotu was voiced by lin manuel miranda and i want to listen to it so badly ahhhhhhh  
> CONGRATS TO THE CAST FOR THAT GRAMMY  
> (PLS LEAVE A KUDOS AND COMMENT IF YOU ENJOYED THIS LITTLE PIECE OF TRASH TH A N K)


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